


Biology lessons

by mypassionfortrash



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Dad!Roger, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypassionfortrash/pseuds/mypassionfortrash
Summary: After parents’ evening doesn’t go according to plan, Roger schedules in some one-to-one time with you – his son’s biology teacher. Roger wants to brush up on his biology knowledge and you quickly realise that he’s a very hands-on learner.
Relationships: Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	1. Parents' evening

**Author's Note:**

> New wip. Two parts. Maybe more if you like it. Thanks for reading. Be safe, folks.

Parents' evening. Arguably the worst part of your job. One after the other, parents would file in and out of your classroom. Some of them liked to think they knew how to do your job better than you. Others felt that their kids could do no wrong. Some parents couldn't even be bothered to show up.

That was the case with your last appointment of the night – Mr Taylor. So, exhausted and dying to get home, you packed up and left.

The following morning, you arrived at work and sank down behind your desk with a cup of coffee and some last-minute marking. But something caught your eye. Propped up on your pen pot was a crisp white piece of paper. It had your name on it. And you recognised that scrawled, slanted handwriting; it belonged to Angela from the office. Straightening out the note, you read it: 'Rufus' dad ran late. He's furious. Call him asap.'

Puffing out your cheeks, you smacked the note back down on the desk. It was too early for this. You picked up the phone and jabbed out the phone number. It rang three times before someone picked up.

"Hello?" a groggy voice said. "What do you want? It's half-seven."

"I'm sorry, Mr Taylor. It's Rufus' biology teacher here. I think I might have missed you last night."

"Biology teacher? A bloody time waster is what you are! I was twenty minutes late with the music teacher. Couldn't you have held on?"

The thing was, you didn't even know that Rufus' dad had shown up to parents' evening anyway. He hadn't actually bothered to sign in at reception. But now wasn't the time to tell him he was in the wrong. "I'm really sorry about that again, Mr Taylor. Do you still want to speak to me."

"Oh, I suppose so," he sighed.

"Are you busy just now?"

"It's half-past seven."

"Right," you agreed, glancing down at your watch. You mentally kicked yourself for that. "When are you free?"

"When's lunch for you?"

You rolled your eyes. You had a million and one other things to do on your lunch break, and dealing with Mr Taylor, as delightful as he was, didn't factor very highly on that list. "Twelve-thirty until quarter past one. But I don't have a class until two."

His voice perked up. "Just in case I'm late?"

"You said it, not me."

"I'll be there at twelve-thirty. On the dot."

"Good."

"Good."

"I'll see you then, Mr Taylor."

"I look forward to it."

Slamming the phone down, you decided to wander down to the staff room for another cup of coffee. You figured you would need it after agreeing to prolong the parents' evening agony. When you walked in, you were greeted by the usual familiar faces. Half of them were so organised that it pained you to listen to them. The other half loved to gossip and arrived at work early to do precisely that. As you flicked on the kettle and spooned a heap of cheap instant coffee into your mug, something caught your attention.

"…And did you speak to Rufus' dad last night?"

"Oh! Don't get me started on Mr Taylor!"

"Those big, sad eyes. Gorgeous hair that I'd just love to…"

"I'm telling you if I were his wife, I'd never let him out of my sight!"

"Well that's the thing, I heard she left him!"

"Never?!"

"It's true. It was all over the papers. Big scandal."

"I wish I had known that last night…"

You knew exactly who was speaking. You tried your hardest to ignore it. To just pour your coffee and go. But on your way out, they caught you. Ms Ferguson from Art and Miss Hunter from English. Right as your hand grasped the door handle, their voices made you wince.

"You were supposed to speak to Rufus' dad last thing, weren't you?"

"Was that where you disappeared to?"

You turned around to look at them. "He was running late. So I left."

"You were missing out!"

"I'm sure I was," you said, grimacing as you left the room.

As your last class before lunch filed out of the lab, you noticed Angela linger at the doorway. But you couldn't resist being drawn to the man standing beside her; absentmindedly tousling his fingers through his messy blonde hair and looking bored to death and effortlessly cool in his button-up shirt and skintight jeans. There was no mistaking him. He was Rufus' dad.

After introductions, you and Roger sat down in silence on opposite sides of your desk. You shuffled through your pile of report cards and notes from the night before, attempting to concentrate on anything but how snug that denim looked on him. "I'll try to make this quick for you, Mr Taylor. You must be a busy man," you began, skimming over Rufus' report card.

"Please, call me Roger," he said, rolling up his sleeves and shooting you a wink. "I've got all the time in the world… especially for you."

You glanced down at the report card again, hoping your face wasn't giving away your embarrassment. "Look, Mr Taylor, there's no easy way of saying this. Rufus isn't doing too well in my class."

Roger's eyes widened. "Oh boy."

You almost felt bad for Rufus. He was a pleasant enough kid. "He doesn't pay attention, and he's… unruly. Doesn't do his homework. Constantly chats away in class. I'm really concerned he might be falling behind. I get it, biology isn't for everyone, and I know he has other ideas, but I need to make sure all of my students are getting the most that they can out of each class."

"I mean it's not hard to see why he'd be distracted." Roger grinned, gesturing towards you. "He's a bit of a chip off the old block,"

Sitting up straight, you tried a different tactic. "Mr Taylor, I really want to see your son do well and I'd appreciate it if you took this as seriously as I do."

Roger nodded. "Right. Right… you're right."

"We've got lots of opportunities for extra tuition. We're actually running an Easter school this year during the holidays. That might help Rufus to catch up."

The corner of Roger's mouth twitched. "Are you going to be there?"

Slotting your fingers together in front of you, you leaned forward. "I'm going to be taking some of the classes, yes."

"Good," he said, leaning back in his chair. He looked like he was analysing every detail of your appearance. "Good. I'm sure I – Rufus, I mean – could make it."

"Is there anything you would like to bring to my attention, Mr Taylor?"

Roger's teeth sank into his lower lip as his eyes batted back and forth beneath his half-moon glasses. You couldn't help but notice just how blue they were. "You know," he began, scratching the back of his neck. "I studied biology at uni. Maybe I could help him?"

"That sounds like a fantastic idea."

"I'm a bit rusty, though. As you can imagine, that was a long time ago," he smirked. "I might need a bit of extra tuition myself." An awkward hush dangled in the air between you. Did you just mishear him? Before you could muster a dry comeback, Roger cleared his throat. "You know… just so I know what I'm talking about. Where are we up to?"

"Um…" you hesitated. If you cracked an egg on your face at that moment, it would have fried in seconds. You swallowed hard and looked Roger dead in the eye: "Reproduction."

Roger's face lit up with a devilish grin that forced his lips wide apart. "Right. Survival of the fittest? The strongest, most successful male gets the female?"

"Not quite, but I'm sure you'd know a thing or two about all of that," you muttered before you could think.

Roger was quick to blurt back. "You know drummers have exceptional stamina?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

"It's an excellent workout."

You just couldn't resist digging yourself even further into that hole. "I can think of better workouts to test your stamina."

"How long did you say you had again?"

"I have until two, why?"

"Just… thought you could give me a bit of extra tuition. Just now. So that I can get to work teaching Rufus about the birds and the bees as it were." Roger pretended to be meek, darting around what he really wanted.

But you knew he had been checking you out since the second he stepped into your classroom. And who were you to pass up an opportunity like this? It had been a while since anyone checked you out, or did anything more for that matter. "Extra tuition?" you repeated slowly, widening your eyes.

Roger's thigh went limp, swaying off to the side in a casual kind of way. You couldn't resist gawping at how his jeans strained at his crotch. "That's right," he smirked. Even the way that he absentmindedly chewed at the skin around his fingernails while he looked at you made you forget how to breathe.

"I mean… I'm sure I can give you a copy of the curriculum and the learning outcomes," you began, fumbling with the sheets of paper on your desk, suddenly remembering that he was a parent. And you were a teacher. You couldn't risk it, could you? "And Rufus has a textbook, I'm sure you can…"

"I'm actually more of a hands-on learner. It might be helpful if you could walk me through the unit on reproduction in person. It's been a while since I…" He paused, fighting back a small laugh. "Reproduced."

"Of course. I need to actually prepare for my next class," you wittered, handing Roger a bundle of notes to sift through. "Some other time, maybe?"

The look of wild excitement wiped off of Roger's features. Now he just seemed concerned. "I'm sorry if I–" he began, standing up.

"It's fine," you said as you ushered him towards the door. "You're not the first to throw the odd innuendo my way." Lingering just at the door, you and Roger stood inches away from each other. The smell of his aftershave drew you closer, and the little details – the laughter lines and patches of sunburn – on his face held you there. "You have the school's number if you need anything else?" Inching the door open, you averted your gaze.

"And my offer still stands about that extra tuition," he said with a coy tap on your shoulder.

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Well, it was lovely meeting you."

"And you, Mr Taylor. Hopefully I'll see you again at Easter school."

Roger was halfway into the empty corridor when he looked back at you. "Oh, you will. Don't worry."

Closing the door and leaning against it, only then did you realise how ferociously your heart pounded. You could feel every breath hitch in your throat as you tried to unscramble your feelings. You raked your fingers through your hair. You could still hear Roger's footsteps echo down the hallway. You had everything to lose from this. But that didn't stop you from going after him.

"Mr Taylor!" you called, sprinting down the hallway on legs that felt like jelly. "Mr Taylor! Wait!"

Roger was barely a foot away from the front door when he turned around, smirking.

You stopped in your tracks, glancing around for prying eyes. Then you tried to regain your composure as much as you possibly could. "I…" you trailed off, searching for a reasonable excuse to drag him back to your classroom. "You've forgotten something, Mr Taylor."

"Have I?" He raised his eyebrows.

He might have played dumb, but Roger followed hot on your heels as you marched back to the lab. You could already feel your insides starting to churn at the thought of what was about to happen, but you were helpless to stop it.

When you got back to the classroom, you locked the door behind you, leaving you alone with the dull chatter from the playground outside streaming in from the window. Roger waited in the middle of the room, glancing around at the diagrams on the walls as he trailed his fingertips over the edge of one of the benches. You were about three steps behind what you wanted to happen; taking deep breaths with your back to the door. Sussing out your next move. "Someone might see us," you murmured. Then you made a beeline for the cupboard at the back of the room. "Come on, in here."

Roger's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he crammed himself inside, pressing up against your body and closed the door behind him. His hands found their way to your waist as if by sheer instinct. But for the first time since he arrived in your classroom, he looked just a tad more serious, peering down at you over the rims of his glasses. "Are you sure about this?"

"You're not?" You raised an eyebrow. "Those eyes of yours haven't stopped staying since the second you met me. Now cut the bullshit, Mr Taylor."

Off the back of that bold move, you could have died when he so nonchalantly reached up and unfastened the buttons on your blouse. He didn't even change a shade. "Just don't want you getting in trouble is all."

"I won't if no one catches us."

Roger was already peppering kisses along your jawline, rendering you utterly at his mercy. All you could do was grasp at his hair. "I'll try not to make you scream too loudly then."

That was a goddamn lie. You could already tell that he wasn't going to hold back. The way his lips crashed against yours told you that much. You were too distracted by Roger's efforts to move. You had to fight to drive your hands lower, tentatively dragging your nails down Roger's chest. Lower still, down to his belt. Unbuckling it. Making for his zipper.

But he kept his lips locked on yours, eager to distract you from his hands hiking up your skirt. Pressing his fingertips into your thighs so harshly you'd probably bruise. When he realised he was touching your bare skin, something clicked in his brain. He pulled away, his lips swollen and pink and breathless, and glanced down. "Stockings?" he grinned. "God, I wish we had teachers like you back in my day."

"That's just a bit weird," you giggled and rolled your eyes.

"Oh, is that something you just save for the parents?" he asked, delivering a smack to your bottom.

"Only the rich, handsome ones."

Roger chuckled, slowly closing the gap between you both again. But then you were forced apart by the shrill sound of the bell. The end of lunchtime.

"Fuck," you hissed under your breath. You smoothed down your skirt and buttoned up your blouse.

Roger scowled, leaning back against the wall, almost sending a shelf full of beakers toppling over. "Well, that's a shame," he said, springing on the balls of his feet.

"You're telling me."

"Maybe some other time?" Roger suggested. He had a coy, hopeful look on his face.

"Yeah. Sure," you sighed, breezing out into the classroom. "You really should get going. Some of the older kids sometimes drop in when they have free periods. This has been… Nice."

Roger seemed taken aback, but nevertheless, he followed you to the door and kept up the act when you opened it out on to a bustling corridor. "I'll speak to Rufus about Easter school. Maybe I can bribe him with one of those violent computer games or something. Make sure he behaves, just for you."

"Thank you for your time, Mr Taylor."

After Roger left, you spent the rest of the day, and well into the night, torturing yourself with thoughts of what might have happened between you and Roger if you hadn't been so rudely interrupted. Wondering if he could play just as filthy as he talked. If he fucked as good as he looked. But then, you also wondered how you were going to look poor Rufus in the eye. After all, he was in your first class the following day.

At a quarter to nine, a steady stream of tired, grumpy teenagers invaded the lab and perched themselves behind each bench. As usual, Rufus straggled a good ten minutes behind his classmates. You were already at the board, going through yesterday's homework when he came in and tapped you on the shoulder.

"Dad told me to give you this, Miss," he said, handing you an envelope with your name on it. Feeling warmth surge to your cheeks, you glanced out at the room, hoping none of your students somehow knew about what happened in the cupboard. "That's fine, Rufus. Go and sit down."

"Aren't you going to tell me off for being late?" he prodded.

"I'll let it slide this time." Then you turned your attention to the rest of the room. "Answers are up on the board; swap jotters. Mark each others' work."

Slipping your fingers underneath the seal, you pulled out the piece of paper inside. Your heart raced, and your eyes widened with every word.

'Dinner?

'Friday?

'You should have my number.

'Let me know,

'Mr T.

'P.S: Wear those stockings.'


	2. Extracurricular activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your science cupboard rendezvous with Roger was cut short, you agree to see him again. But you can’t ignore the worry over what this might do to your career. After all, you are his son’s biology teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! If you enjoyed it, or you didn't, please feel free to leave some feedback.
> 
> Also, times are pretty tough right now, and I'm not sure if I'm gonna have a job in a few months' time. So if you need an editor or a copywriter for projects big and small, please let me know. You can get me on tumblr under the same username as here. Thanks!

Rounding off your week with an act of generosity, your final class of the day had packed up early. You couldn’t keep your eyes off the clock as they excitedly chatted amongst themselves, and then to you. You wanted out of there just as much as they did. But you didn’t want to focus too much on the night ahead.

“So what’s everyone’s plans for the weekend?” you asked. 

The usual answers came thick and fast. Shopping. Football. Gaming. Rufus Taylor was especially keen on getting pizza with his dad tomorrow. He directed your question right back at you with a smirk. “What about you, Miss? Anything exciting?”

Choking on a nervous laugh, once again, you were saved by the bell. You, plus your entire class, swarmed out of the lab and into the stampede for the door. You hurried out into your car, eager not to squander precious time. After all, you had a date – and no idea about what to wear.

Three times you had to stamp out the urge to call Roger and cancel. The half-hour drive between school and home offered a bit too much thinking time. All of those reservations and anxieties simmered away. What would happen if this got out? Would your career be ruined? How could you be sure Rufus didn’t already know? Maybe he steamed the note his dad gave to him to give to you? Your thoughts churned faster and faster until you almost ran a red light. You only managed to soothe yourself afterwards by cranking down the windows to focus on the first golden glimmers of spring. And the road ahead.

Then, you had a meltdown because, for some reason, your makeup just wouldn’t sit right on your face. Your foundation seemed to slide off your skin. Your cat-eyed eyeliner came out crooked. And then, to complete your look, your lipstick decided to take a detour on to your teeth. You got as far as hovering over Roger’s name in your contact list when you remembered how riled up he had you on Wednesday – and ever since – all from a few minutes alone. And how stupid you would be to pass up on an entire evening in his company. You grabbed your makeup wipes and started over.

Finally, all dressed up and twenty minutes to spare, something about your reflection caught your eye as you danced around your bedroom with a glass of wine. You did a double-take in the mirror, turning ever so slightly. Your eye was drawn to your stockings. Running from behind your knee, right down to your ankle, was a perfectly-formed ladder. You cursed, wondering how that could’ve happened. You weren’t even sure you had any other stockings. Would it even matter? Couldn’t you just wear tights? Why were you worrying about that? Roger had asked you to wear them. And then, in your head, you decided that this was all Roger’s fault. And you really wanted to cancel on him. For real, this time. Until you looked at the clock on your bedside table at exactly the same time as your hand grabbed what felt like another pair of stockings in your lingerie drawer. Ten minutes to go. He’d already be on his way.

Life always seemed to have a way to cut you off. No sooner had you shimmied out of your ruined stockings, but three loud knocks were rattling your door. You sighed and ran your hand through your hair. Then, you scrambled down the stairs. You could already see his outline through the glass on the door. He was about to knock again.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” you said, running the last few feet. You yanked open the door.

“You look nice,” Roger grinned.

Out of breath was what you actually were, but you couldn’t help wheezing out a giddy, “Thanks,” as you stepped aside to usher him in.

He stood awkwardly facing you in the doorway before he realised he had one hand behind his back. “Got these for you,” he said, whipping out an extravagant red and orange bouquet. 

“Oh.” You took the flowers from him and marvelled at the myriad of colours. Your nerves dissipated as you drank in the sweet scent with your eyes closed. “It’s been a while since anyone’s bought me flowers,” you sighed, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

Roger gave a bashful shrug. “That’s alright. You ready to go?”

“I’m not even finished getting ready.”

“Better get your skates on, then!”

“You know,” you began, darting through to the kitchen to find a vase, “I would’ve been bang on time if you hadn’t shown up early.”

Roger leaned against the kitchen doorway and folded his arms, watching as you dunked the flowers in the water. “And here I was, thinking I was making a good impression.”

Glancing over at him, you noticed just how exquisite he looked. Even dressed for a date he still managed to look a tad dishevelled with his mussed hair and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His jeans were even tighter than they were two days ago, too. “Oh you are,” you smirked, looking him up and down. “You stay here,” you instructed, tapping him on the nose as you very deliberately squeezed past him. “I’ll be two minutes.”

—————————————

“Rufus tells me you’re one of the only nice teachers at the school,” Roger stated, shovelling a morsel of steak into his mouth. The date had been going well. So well, in fact, that this was the first time Roger had brought up your job. “I know he’s a little shit, though.”

“He’s actually a really bright kid,” you said. “Or at least he could be, if he put in the effort.”

“Everyone used to say that about me,” Roger laughed.

You nodded. “And me.”

Roger raised his eyebrows midway through taking a sip of wine. He was trying to stretch that one glass out for the whole night, point-blank refusing to get a taxi. Swallowing hard, he almost choked: “How so?”

“Believe it or not, I hated school. Sit down, shut up, no you can’t go and pee whenever you like…”

“Don’t draw on the desk… Roger where’s your tie? Why are you late? Did you do your homework? That’s a month’s detention.” You and Roger shared a giggle. “Still quite rebellious though, aren’t you?” he added with a wink.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I like to break the rules and then I’m an absolute shitbag about it afterwards.”

“Everyone is. How come you decided to go into teaching, then?”

“I just wanted to help people,” you shrugged as if that was the most obvious explanation in the world. “I didn’t like school for a lot of reasons and I thought I could at least try to make it a positive experience for kids now. What did you get out of your biology degree?”

An awkward, abashed smile formed on Roger’s lips as he glanced down at his now empty plate. “Well, I actually wanted to be a dentist.” When he realised what he had just said, his gaze snapped back to you. Then, he furiously back-peddled: “Wait, no one actually wanted to be a dentist. Ever. I got the biology A-Level and that was the easiest way to turn it into… gold! I suppose…”

“I have no idea why anyone would want to go poking around in other peoples’ mouths,” you said, shaking your head. 

“I looked terrible in a lab coat, so I packed all of that in. Right before I got to stick my fingers in some mouths.”

Briefly distracted by Roger’s elegant but calloused fingers, you were jolted back into the moment by the dull ache of your teeth pressing into your lip. “Being a rockstar suits you much better. You’ve certainly got the looks for it,” you wittered.

Roger leaned back in his seat and chewed at the skin around his fingers. It was his turn to eye you up. When he got to your chest, he paused and furrowed his brow. “Bet you’d look good in nothing but a lab coat.”

Despite Roger’s smooth and sultry delivery, you couldn’t contain the hysterics that burst through you. Not wanting to distract your fellow diners, you hunched over, burying your head in your hands as hilarity overcame you. “I’m sorry,” you choked, looking up at him with tears tickling the edges of your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Roger’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry if that was a bit much,” he said. “I just couldn’t help myself after our escapades the other day.”

“Oh, I know,” you smiled, sitting up straight. “I actually haven’t stopped thinking about it since. But I can’t look poor Rufus in the eye.”

“How do you think I feel?” He said, pursing his lips together in a display of pure mischief. “I think he’s seen worse, though. Much, much worse.”

You raised your eyebrows and allowed your eyes to drift towards the window with a comical grimace.

A blanket of comfortable, natural silence tied you and Roger together for a good five minutes as you people-watched through the raindrop-spattered window together. Occasionally catching each other’s eyes lingering for a moment. Your fingertips searched the tabletop void until they finally, perfectly bound together. You noticed Roger’s reflection shifting its focus to the two pairs of hands in front of him. 

“I’ve missed being able to do this.”

The wistful, lamenting thread that slipped through that sentence snatched your attention. “Being able to hold hands?” you quipped.

Roger nodded, continuing to circle his thumbs over the backs of your hands. “Sort of.”

“Are you just doing this because you’re lonely?”

“No,” he said, looking up at you. “Enough time’s passed that I’m not so cut up about Debbie leaving.” He trailed off and gazed out the window again. “Top ten things you shouldn’t talk about on a first date.”

“Exes.”

“Exes,” Roger repeated. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you reassured, giving his calloused hands a squeeze. “Between you and me, I’m slightly out of practice, too.”

“You?” Roger asked, his tone laced with indignation. “How?”

You shrugged. “Just not that into dating. I’m always too busy, too picky or too impatient.”

“Those aren’t bad things to be,” he said. “I’m a bit set in my ways now, though.”

“You and me both. Plus it’s harder to meet people when your friends are all paired off. I’m kind of jealous of you. Must be a walk in the park being handsome and famous. Mums and models alike must fawn over you.”

“Oh god no,” Roger chuckled. “I don’t have any patience for morons. I mean,” he hesitated, his cheeks glowing. “I did go to one of those PTA things a while ago. And the mums did some fawning.”

“Any of them catch your eye?”

“Like I said. Morons.”

“Bit like their kids, really,” you added. “You’re a big hit with the teachers, too. They were practically swooning over you after parents’ evening.”

“I think I know which ones you’re on about, actually,” he grinned. “But shagging Rufus’ English teacher just didn’t appeal to me.”

“Right,” you joked, lifting your drink to your lips. “So you’re going to try it on with your son’s biology teacher instead?”

“Only if she’s up for it. And besides,” Roger leaned forward, like he was imparting a profound secret, and whipped off his glasses. “I still have a thing for lab coats.”

The drive home, much like your date, was rather tame. Roger had chosen a restaurant no less than an hour away from where you lived, and he insisted on driving you home. The pair of you sat in yet another comfortable silence until the odd song popped up on your playlist that Roger either loved or hated; then the conversation flared up. He rather liked Tom Petty and Springsteen. He’d tolerate The Police, too. He pretended not to like ABBA, but he protested a bit too much. But for the most part, he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. 

And you? You had to fight to keep your eyes open. 

The sound of the rain, the stuffy heat from the radiator and the wipers batting back and forth made staying awake impossible. You only made it halfway home before you nodded off with your face smearing makeup across the window.

“Darling? You alright there?” Coaxing you back to consciousness, Roger tapped your shoulder. The first thing you saw was a sweet smile on Roger’s lips when you woke. “You’re home,” he whispered. “Are you alright?”

Suddenly realising that the car was no longer moving, you sat bolt upright. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry.”

“She’s awake!” Roger joked. “You know for a second I thought I’d have to carry you inside. Don’t think my back’s really up to that these days.”

“It’s just been a long week. I didn’t mean to pass out on you,” you sighed, tilting your head back against the headrest. Your eyes shifted back to Roger. “I’m pretty sure I can make it back into the house.”

“Good,” Roger chuckled. The light in his eyes shimmered up and then down, before settling on your mouth. “Fancy a goodnight kiss?”

You shifted towards Roger, stopping just inches away from him. So close that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Do you even have to ask?”

With his hands on your waist, Roger pulled you into him, gingerly brushing his lips against yours. Meanwhile, his hand wandered down your hip. Towards your thigh. And under your dress. His hands were freezing, and the shock made you pull away and pause. Eventually, his fingers hesitated at the top of your stocking. Suddenly, you remembered what was happening. 

“I should get going,” you said, cocking your head towards your house. “Don’t want to pass out while I’m still attached to you.”

“Oh, right.” Moving back to his side of the car, Roger’s idle hands linked together in his lap, removing the temptation to roam further than they already had. In the dim orange glow from the streetlight above the car, you could tell that he still appeared hopeful, at least. “I hope I’m not being too forward here, but I’d love to see you again.”

When he flitted between recklessly flirting with you and being utterly disarming like this, it was hard to read him. And even harder for you to think on your feet or to decide how exactly you felt. So, with a hint of ambiguity, you leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and with your lips deliciously close to his ear, you answered. “Let me have a think about that.”


	3. Breaking beakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your date with Roger leads to 72 hours of agonising over whether you want to see him again. Will you give in and call him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, folks!

‘Had a lovely evening last night. Let me know what you decide ;)’

There was no disguising the sigh that came with reading that text.

“Why does Rufus’ dad want to know if you’ll see him again?”

Jumping out of your skin, you looked up at the now silent gathering. And then you turned to Ashley, a fellow teacher. “What?” you asked in a daze.

“Rufus’ dad,” she pressed, nodding at your phone.

You tried to hide the way your mouth contorted when you felt embarrassed or the way you sank in on yourself, hoping that question would just go away. “Rufus is struggling with biology, and I’m giving his Mr. Taylor some of the course materials and a bit of tuition to help him out,” you explained.

“Not buying it,” Ashley said.

“Well, that’s what it is.”

“Wait, who’s Rufus’ dad? And why aren’t you buying it?” Katie, the rather gregarious friend in the group, asked. “Do you think they…”

“He is rather attractive,” Ashley said, sitting back in her chair and looking at you. “But you’ve got the good sense not to go shagging a parent, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!”

“She’s lying,” Katie said. “Look she’s doing that thing with her lip again. She can’t even look at you.”

Ashley’s face sank. “Really?”

“Can we move on from this now, please?” you huffed. Squeezing the bridge of your nose, you became defensive. “Nothing happened when I saw him.”

Katie didn’t waste a second. “When did you see him?”

“Last night.”

“You left work bang on last night,” Ashley interjected.

“Did you see him after that?” Katie asked.

“Extra tuition,” Ashley scoffed. “Good job you’re a biology teacher. I think Mr. Taylor’s very interested in that.”

“I take it he’s a bit of a flirt, then?” Katie asked.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” Ashley said, leaning in. Her eyes were wild, frantic with the information she was about to impart. “Every single teacher at parents night.”

“Even the men?”

“If they had tits, Mr. Taylor was all over them like a rash.”

“Sounds like a bit of a perv to me.” Katie narrowed her eyes and glanced over at you. “Are you sure you’re not involved with him?”

“And the best thing,” Ashley added, “is that he’s really bloody nice. So you can’t even be mad at him for it!”

“Sounds like he’s got a lot going for him.”

The scene in front of you was a bit like a ping-pong match, and you were only there to watch. Your head batted back and forth across the table with whiplash-inducing velocity. You needed to nip this in the bud. “Alright. Alright. Will you two shut up,” you snapped, praying for the ground to split and gobble you up. “I’ll tell you what happened if you promise not to judge or fly off the handle. Just don’t say anything.”

Katie was in the process of draining her large wine glass when her eyes doubled in size. “So there is something going on?”

Ashley just buried her head in her hands.

“He didn’t show up to his appointment at parents’ evening on time. We rearranged. And he asked if I wanted to go to dinner with him. There. Happy?”

“And did you?” Ashley asked.

You sighed and nodded, resigned to the judgmental onslaught she was about to unleash.

“You do know that if people found out about this… well…” Ashley shrugged. “It’s not going to look good for you.”

“Chill out; I know that,” you said. “I’m not even sure if I want to see Roger again.”

“Did you at least have a good time?” Katie asked.

Your heart did cartwheels just thinking about the night before. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. He’s a proper gent. Brought me flowers and everything.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Oh god.”

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” Katie said, trying to see things from your perspective.

You shrugged and chewed at your lip. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see him again, but you couldn’t admit that to Ashley and Katie. Ashley, more so, didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down at your phone. “I really don’t know.”

The situation weighed you down all weekend. The dread kept you awake. And on Monday morning, you wandered into work feeling like you had been on a 72-hour bender.

The morning passed you by as you trundled on through the exhaustion. Sneaking sips of coffee between classes and occasionally giving yourself a quick smack to the face when you visited that fateful cupboard for supplies helped.

And then, lunch came around.

There was something about the women at the school that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Something that just didn’t sit right with you. Something that made you grind your teeth every time you heard them speak.

Maybe it was that giddy air of solidarity when someone decided to air details of their private lives in the staff room. Or the frenzied diet talk – paleo, keto, atkins and whatever else helped some poor woman lose a pound a day by only eating grapefruit or something like that. The topic of today, however, was Miss Collins from Maths’ impending wedding.

Every woman in the staff room sat huddled around her as she swiped through photos of her dress, the bridesmaid’s dresses, the cake… colour swatches for the flowers and decorations.

You couldn’t tell the difference between periwinkle and cornflower blue if you tried. And your brain wasn’t even going to attempt to cooperate with you. So you kept your gaze trained forward, out the window, as the kettle boiled for another cup of coffee; listening in to the mindless chit chat about weddings and partners, trying for babies and the key to a happy marriage. Tracing the outline of your phone in your pocket, you found yourself searching for a temporary cure for your own loneliness.

The kettle clicked and you poured the water into your coffee cup, rattled the spoon around inside it and turned towards the door.

“Come and sit with us!” Miss Collins squawked.

The shrill sound of her voice made you wince hard enough that drops of coffee splattered on the floor. Your gaze shot between her and your colleagues; they had a delirious look in their eyes, like a group of rabid seagulls fighting for a shard of ‘Spring Bride’ magazine. “I’ve just remembered,” you began, gesturing towards the door, “I’ve got a pile of homework to mark before this afternoon.”

“Oh, come on! Come and have a look at my dress!”

Desperate to maintain some semblance of calm, you gave her a sweet smile and spoke softly. “Some other time.”

By the time you arrived back at your classroom, your coffee cup was half empty. Your cheeks felt hot and you had almost broken a sweat. You practically ran all the way there. Out of breath and cocooned inside the empty room, you dumped your lunch and mug on your desk and whipped out your phone. Your chest heaved with every tap at the screen until your thumb lingered just over his number.

Panic simmered in your chest with every ring. Pacing across the room, you couldn’t help sinking your teeth into your knuckle while you waited for him to pick up.

After what felt like an eternity, Roger finally answered. “You took your time,” he quipped.

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I just… needed to think things through.”

“That’s totally understandable. So, when am I getting another biology lesson?”

You bit back a giddy laugh. “When would you like one?”

“You free tonight?”

“Ooh, I don’t know. Not on a school night.”

“I could be quick.” Suddenly, Roger lowered his tone. “After all, it’s been a while.”

You gnawed at your knuckle again, deliberating whether to give in to him.

“Still there?”

“Still here.”

“Tell you what,” Roger said. “I’m picking Rufus up from his music lesson at five. I could perhaps swing by that little cupboard of yours a bit earlier.”

Your eyes snapped to the door at the back of the classroom and you couldn’t fight off a sly grin. Roger could hear it down the line.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?”

“Yes!” It came out with more enthusiasm than you had meant to. “I mean… sure.”

“Can I ask for something really cheeky?”

“Maybe. Since it’s you.”

He sounded sheepish with a naughty undertone. “Can you wear your lab coat?”

“I’ll see how generous I’m feeling come the end of the day.”

“I’ll take that also as a yes. I’ll be there at ten to four.”

“Good luck sneaking past Angela.”

Long after the halls cleared of moody teenagers, you found yourself alone in your classroom again. It was only ten minutes, but it felt like forever. And when you glanced at your lab coat hanging beside the door, something caught your eye in the corridor beyond. Angela’s red hair and cat-eye glasses were just visible through the window. And then Roger came into view wearing that bright, mischievous smile of his. You knew if he spent any longer with Angela, he’d have charmed the pants off of her, and you couldn’t have that. So you leapt to your feet and strode towards the door before she had time to knock.

“There she is!” Roger grinned.

“Mr. Taylor’s here for Rufus’ homework,” Angela explained. “I can wait here and show you back out if you like.”

Roger furrowed his brow. “Actually, Angela, we need to talk through the homework. He’s been struggling with biology. It might take a while. Besides, I still need to pop down to Music. I don’t want to keep you.”

Angela’s eyes widened at that long-winded explanation. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I can show him out when he’s got everything he needs,” you reassured, choosing to ignore Roger shooting a wink at you.

When Angela was out of earshot, you reached out and pulled Roger into the room by his shirt collar. “You need to be careful,” you warned, snatching your lab coat off the hook.

“You know, in my day,” Roger began, struggling to keep up with you, “our teachers used to belt us if we misbehaved.”

“Don’t test me, just get in the cupboard.”

Roger paused at the threshold, rosy-cheeked and absolutely beaming. “Don’t mind if I do, m’lady.”

You slung your lab coat on and followed Roger inside. Squeezed against him, the pair of you were forced together in a feverish, series of kisses.

But Roger broke away and shoved you back towards the door. “I thought I asked for nothing but the lab coat,” he mumbled against your neck as his hands clawed your skirt up around your waist.

“Let’s see how this goes first.” Unbuckling his belt, you allowed your hands to stray over the outline of his cock. You giggled with delight, realising he was already hard. “For an older gent, you don’t have much trouble.”

“Been thinking about this all day,” he said. He didn’t waste any time, pawing at your underwear. Leaning in close to your neck, he sighed. “You filthy girl.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you instructed, yanking down Roger’s zipper.

He allowed you a split second of stroking his cock. Leaning his head back with his lips slightly parted, you could hear him sigh, starting to enjoy himself. And then his gaze returned to you. With the full force of his body, he pressed himself up against you, sending you colliding into a cabinet full of beakers. You swore you heard some smash as he hauled you on top of it. “You want my cock?” he teased, dragging his hand down your neck. You nodded as keenly as you could manage, looking him dead in the eye. “Hm? Tell me how much you want it,” he goaded.

You shot Roger your best doe eyes as you unbuttoned his shirt. “I’ll ask you nicely then. Please fuck me.”

Roger curled his finger underneath the gusset of your underwear and snapped it back against your clothed slit. “You’re gonna need to lose these first.” He practically tore them from your thighs and threw them to the ground. And then he paused.

“What’s the matter?” you purred rubbing at the heat between your legs.

“I need to see those tits, too,” he said, drawing his teeth along your neck. His fingers nimbly undid the buttons on your blouse and clawed your bra straps and lab coat from your shoulders. His mouth travelled from your neck lower and lower down your chest. He nipped and nibbled, lapping at your nipples and pinched them between his lips, forcing quiet moans from you. “Fucking beautiful,” he groaned.

You couldn’t contain the utter desperation just to have him. The only thing you could do was wrap your hand around his cock and stroke it for just a split second longer than Roger would allow.

He was already so strung out that he needed a distraction. Your thighs would suffice. He squeezed at the nylon-clad flesh with a satisfied purr, peppering kisses higher and higher on one thigh and stopping right where you wanted his mouth most. He never once broke eye contact with you batting his eyelashes beneath his gold-rimmed glasses. That cheeky glint amplified your need even more. So, just as those wet, lazy kisses reached the top of your other thigh, you grabbed a tuft of soft, greying hair. Pulling him inches away from the dripping heat between your legs.

Roger knew when to be good. Following your lead, he grinned as you guided him all the way. He gingerly licked a flat, slow strip over your core. Eyes closed and relishing every drop of arousal on his tongue. But that restraint was short-lived. With his nails clawing at your hips, he buried his face squarely between your thighs and picked up the pace. Exploring every inch, sucking at every fold. You were sure this was the only time he was able to keep quiet. And even at that, he made sure to let you know just how good you tasted with soft purrs of approval that sent delicious tremors coursing through your body. He kept a toe-curling rhythm. Purposeful, forceful. But he made sure to steer clear of your clit.

Roger was good at this. So good that he managed to have you dangling on the edge of release in minutes. He somehow coaxed out every roll of your hips with ease. And the way he gazed up at you, eyes narrowed by the smile on his lips, savouring every second of pleasure he could bring you. Being quiet about this was out of the question for you.

Especially when his fingers, slick with arousal, lingered right at your entrance. Dancing around, trying to pinpoint the opportune moment to force another lightning bolt of bliss through your body. Every second he held off drew your muscles tighter in anticipation.

At the same moment, his fingers slipped inside you, his tongue feathered over your clit and the euphoric explosion that resulted made you arch your back against him. Eager for more. You could feel it building again—faster this time. You gripped Roger’s hair and gritted your teeth as his fingers fucked you and his tongue kept time flicking over that sensitive little nub. Being quiet became impossible. You knew that if anyone walked past the lab, they’d hear all of the sighs and curses that escaped your mouth. In a moment of shame and horror, you brought your free hand up to your mouth and bit down hard on your knuckle. You knew you were close.

Roger did too. Your muscles trembled under the iron grip his free hand had on you and the dark, knowing streak in his eyes was too much. Rather than chew your own hand off, or rip out chunks of poor Roger’s hair, you resorted to clawing tracks along the surface of the wooden cabinet. Blissful waves forced strangled whines out of you as Roger’s efforts shook you to your core.

But it wasn’t over.

Your legs still felt like jelly when Roger pulled you off the cabinet and into his arms. You could still taste yourself when he kissed you. Pressing himself against you with one hand raking through your hair. His other arm held you firmly in place tight against his body. You could feel every feverish breath pulsing through his chest. And every moan that rattled from his body to yours. And his cock, still hard and begging for attention.

You broke away, lingering shy of Roger’s lips. “I think you should put that cock of yours to good use.”

Roger grinned and grazed his nose against yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t need telling twice. He turned you around to face the wall, leaning over the cabinet.

You could feel the back of your lab coat being hiked up and cool wisps of air caressing your skin. That was quickly replaced by the warmth of Roger’s body. The tip of his cock teased you; gliding up and down your slit. Excitement and anticipation got the better of you, though, as you tried to move back into him.

“Steady on, darling, I want to enjoy this,” Roger taunted, giving your arse a swift swat that made you jump.

You hadn’t registered what had happened until Roger sank his length inside you. Filling you so deliciously that your brain fogged over with need again that a delighted sigh slipped out.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, hunching over you with an arm around your waist. “And you’re absolutely dripping for me. Fuck.”

You weren’t going anywhere, even as Roger’s thrusts gained ferocity he made sure of that. The slick, sticky slap of flesh on flesh pierced the room and the worry of being caught in the act crept into your consciousness again, but you were enjoying this far too much to give a damn. The sheer girth of him and the way he stretched you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. And you could have got lost in the feeling of his breath on your neck as he clawed off your lab coat and your blouse so that he could sink his teeth into your skin as he fucked you like an animal. You couldn’t help but tighten around him.

“I’m not going to last much longer if you do that,” he warned.

Another worry struck you.

“God, I’m so close. Where do you want it, darling?”

At least he was considerate. “Fuck, let me taste you.”

Roger’s hand found its way into your hair again, pulling you upright. “On your knees,” he instructed, backing himself up against the other wall of the cramped cupboard. “Come here.”

You did exactly as Roger told you and kneeled on the cold concrete floor in front of him.

One hand tugged at your hair, while the other directed his thick, veined cock towards your mouth. But you didn’t need any more encouragement.

Wrapping your hand around the base, Roger watched in bliss as you tongued the tip and eventually sank as much of it in your mouth as you could. Not only was his girth impressive, but it didn’t take much effort for his cock to prod the back of your throat in just the right way to send tears streaking down your cheeks. You knew your jaw would ache in a matter of minutes. You prayed he was as close as he said he was, and set about a mind-melting effort with your lips and your tongue and your hand. Which Roger clearly enjoyed as his hands fell to his sides as he admired you. Wet and slick and eager, you didn’t care about mess. Threads of saliva dripped down your chin and on to your chest.

“Fuck,” Roger cursed. “Such a messy girl, aren’t you?”

All you could manage was a strangled ‘mmmrf,’ and a stupid nod in response. At least it earned a wicked laugh from Roger.

“Show me how messy you can get for me,” he cooed almost soothingly. And then his slender fingers were back, tugging your hair as his hips thrust towards your mouth. All you could do was brace yourself on his thighs and keep your mouth open. Tongue out, drooling over his throbbing member. “Fuck. I always knew that mouth of yours would feel incredible,” he sighed, pulling you off him, leaving a thick rope of spit suspended between him and your mouth. Roger wiped it up, spreading it over your chin while his other hand pumped away at his shaft. His voice wavered when he spoke. “Be a good girl and open up.”

You were disgusted with yourself. On your knees in a science lab cupboard. Being spoken to like this. Watching in awe as Roger worked himself to orgasm and unloaded rope after rope of thick, sticky cum over your face, your glasses and in your hair.

Roger hadn’t even given you the chance to clean yourself up before his watch caught his eye. “Shit!” he hissed. “It’s ten past five! God knows what Rufus is up to! Sorry, I need to go.” He made quick work of zipping up his jeans and buttoning his shirt. He had his hand on the door handle before he turned to you, trying to thumb globs on cum into your mouth. Roger smirked, “I’ll be seeing you again, then?”

You hadn’t thought about seeing Roger again during your romp in the cupboard. You managed to croak out an uneasy, “yeah,” just before he left.

There was only so much cleanup you could do in a cupboard. So, with your hair up in a ponytail, and the last remnants of makeup still desperately clinging to your face, you darted out to your car. Head down. Feet moving fast. Ignoring every distraction. Until a familiar voice hijacked your attention.

“I’ll maybe see you at Easter school?”

It was Roger. You looked up, searching around the car park. You saw him waving at you six or seven cars over. Rufus was already belted up in the passenger seat, engrossed in his phone screen.

You kept quiet and looked around to check if anyone was watching. And then your eyes snapped back to Roger. “I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Taylor.”


End file.
